


Surrender The Night

by PlatinumAndPercocet



Category: Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, POV First Person, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:38:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8721097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlatinumAndPercocet/pseuds/PlatinumAndPercocet
Summary: Lindsey wasn't looking for complicated, hell she wasn't even looking for a gig, part-time or otherwise... she found both, in spades.





	1. Drive On And On And On And On

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the BandomMiniBang over on tumblr but never posted. Endless thanks and all the love to my amazing beta ghostjoshdun who wrangled my commas like a pro and the wonderful keithmyass for art that BLEW MY MIND. Any grammatical issues are mine and mine alone cause I second guess everything, always.
> 
> Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not even a little bit. Fiction, folks.

There was very little I hated more in this life than ptraffic. Know-it-all residents, feta cheese and women who kept using drugs once they knew they were pregnant. That’s it. Oh and that asshole bank teller. He could fuck off too. Aside from that? I was pretty fucking happy with things. But traffic… Jesus. And today, of course, it was especially fucking heinous because why not, especially when I had someplace to be. I was cutting it close as it was but if this group of sight-seeing assholes didn’t learn how to actually USE the gas pedal in the next twenty minutes, there’s gonna be some severe injuries. As it was, I had already had enough time to change my shirt and do my makeup, both sitting in traffic. I’m pretty sure the kid that had been sitting in his mom’s minivan had enjoyed the free show. It wasn’t like my bra was THAT bad. At least the kid was honest about his staring though, bonus point Bradley Boner. As comfy as my scrubs were, they just wouldn’t cut it tonight. It’s one thing to audition dressed like a nurse, especially when you were one. It is another to get on a stage and perform in them. 

I hadn’t been looking for a gig, replacement or otherwise, but when the father of one of my patients mentioned it, I really wasn’t about to say no to his face. He had planned on going himself but when you have a two pound infant fighting for every breath, almost hidden behind tubes, wires and plastic, well… playing bass suddenly seems about as important to you as a freezer seems to a starfish. He encouraged it for which I was thankful. I wasn’t going to go and forgot about it for a while, until the day of the audition. To be more specific, it was actually when I reached for the ridiculous grandma sweater I kept behind the nurses station. The slip of paper was still tucked in the pocket and it nagged at me until I got off my shift. Of course it was at the end of a long fucking shift. Losing a patient was always hard, when it was a patient that never really had a chance, who SHOULD have had every chance… those were the days I needed something, anything more than work. My bass was already loaded in my car -thank you laziness- and I had probably broken about half of the neighborhood speeding regulations as I whipped through tiny back roads and perfect, white fenced neighborhoods to get to the warehouse district in time. 

I didn’t even take my granny sweater off, just yanked Dallas from the trunk and hauled ass inside. Bars during the day, especially music venues, are a slice of goddamn humanity, and this one was no exception. Bukowski country right here. I was as quiet as I could be as I entered, catching the heavy door behind me and easing it shut. I didn’t want to cut into the end of the prior prospective audition. He was okay, nothing great; really fucking pretty though. My clogs were silent against the slightly sticky floor as I perched against a table and watched him wrap up. There was no applause. Technically proficient but no fire. One without the other meant next to nothing. If you were going to do something, fucking do it. Put everything you have into it or sit the fuck down. I settled my case none too quietly up on a flat top and finally got some attention.  
“The bar doesn’t open for another few hours, Sweetcheeks.” I couldn’t catch sight of who was talking, just the back of a dark head, and I raised a brow. The endearment could have gone either way, although after the day I’d had it took everything in me not to snark right back at him. I bit my tongue which was NOT my usual, and instead of spitting off something sure to get me in trouble, I corralled my temper and fiddled with Dallas’s strings..

“I’ll make a note of when the doors really open although I’m not really here for a drink.” My delivery was matter of fact and five heads snapped around to look at me, wide-eyed. I couldn’t really blame them, I didn’t look like I belonged here. Clogs, scrubs, no matter how black, long sleeved t-shirt, granny sweater, glasses and a french braid didn’t exactly add up to rock and roll. “I’m sorry, who are you?” It was the same voice, incredulous with a slight hint of amusement.  
“I’m Lindsey. Craig sent me in his place. He has an almost three pound baby that he needs to be with.” A chorus of nods and a round of whispers was the only response, and I adjusted my strap over my shoulder as I waited for some sort of reply.

“Well, come on up, Sweetcheeks, we don’t have all day.” The words were not harsh, not at all, simply honest and I respected that. Grabbing a spare pick, I dropped it in one of the many pockets that littered my top and made my way towards the stage, hopping up on it with a practiced ease. Plugging easily into the amp that sat alone in the center of the stage, I turned to face the men in the makeshift audience with a smile as I pushed the sleeves of my t-shirt up. Let’s be a little less suburban mom. The ink on both of my arms was extensive and bright, my pride and joy, and gave me a little bit of cred, as it were. There was very little response other than a nod and I fiddled with Dallas’s strings, coaxing her into tune. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I didn’t need to be told twice and with a tilt of my head and a seemingly coy smile, I smacked my hand against the strings and started to play. I was far from the best bass player in the world and honestly the guy before me was probably better, if we were getting down to brass tacks.Technically, I was good, and could actually be great if I got a chance to practice enough; I’d worshiped at the altar of a dozen lanky haired chick bassists as a teenager, although I never really had any delusions of grandeur. I was a somewhat good player, but I was a fantastic performer, if a bit of an asshole. I couldn’t help it. I jumped, kicked and stomped around the stage, whipping my head around with the beat and not missing a fucking note for any of the three songs I’d had prepared. I ended by turning my back to the tiny audience and leaning back, nearly touching my head to the stage, my fingers never faltering on the strings until the last note died off and I could stand back up. Jesus fuck, I had missed this. 

My chest was heaving and the hair that had slipped loose from my french braid stuck to my sweaty face as I plopped down on the edge of the stage and crossed my feet while I caught my breath, taking the bottle of water a man with ridiculous pretty eyes and a LOT of gorgeous ink offered with a smile and a tilt of my head.  
“That was… well shit. You’re good, Sweetcheeks.” The words were accompanied by a bright smile that seemed almost out of place with the ink, gruff voice and Motorhead t-shirt, but it still worked kind of perfectly. I swallowed my water with a nod, my breathing returning to normal.

“Thank you. I do enjoy it.” The laughter which followed my statement was unexpected but still gave me a little thrill. Trailing my fingers absently, I let my knee bounce as I tried to hear the muffled whispers to no avail. Ink’s back was turned and it was all I could do not to unplug and hop down which was exactly what I was planning on just as all five guys made their way in my direction. “So… what does your schedule look like?” I was in, scrubs and all. 

That had been a month, two shows and twelve practices ago, all of which had been great. If I didn’t get a fucking move on though, I wasn’t going to fucking make it to see a third show. Ignoring the SUV of teenagers playing some truly offensive music, I unbuckled my seatbelt and shimmied out of my scrub pants, throwing them over my shoulder and squirming into my black boy shorts and plaid skirt before settling back down and ignoring my seatbelt. It wasn’t like I was moving anyway. But someone was. The sharp whistle from the JVSUV next to me caught my attention and I rolled my window down before leveling a glare at the assholeish yellow vehicle and not saying a word. Obviously, these candyasses didn’t take a hint. Lowering my sunglasses, I arched a brow and shook my head.  
“You ever hear the phrase “That’s too much car for you?’” They had not. I was hardly surprised. Shaking my head, I gave a tug on the hem of my white and black striped tank top and waved my fingers. “Vroom-vroom, kid.” I left them staring as I slammed my foot on the gas and cut them off, my tires squealing as I made my way out of the deadlocked traffic down a side street. The power of tits was pretty fucking amazing. Glancing at the clock, I grinned as my speedometer inched upwards as I shaved minutes off my trip. Unless I got pulled over, I would have more than enough time to get to the venue and get my shit together. Pulling to a complete stop at a four way intersection, I yanked the elastic out of the end of my french braid and tugged my fingers through the tightly wound black strands until they hung loosely down to the middle of my back. No time to straighten tonight so my usual pigtails were out of the equation, but hey, change is good. Dropping my bare foot down on the gas pedal, I took off, speeding down winding streets towards the familiar club we would be playing at tonight. I hadn’t played there, not with Joyriding, but I knew the place like the back of my hand. Four years bartending there as I worked through nursing school made it my second home, outside of the hospital. From what I could see as I pulled into an empty parking space, nothing had changed since then. Rolling down my windows, I crank up the volume on my stereo as I rummage through the bag on my passenger seat for my socks. Black ones, knee high with a pair of black buckle combat boots. Nude fishnets topped with a short plaid skirt and a more than slightly too tight black denim jacket completed my ensemble for the evening and I touched up my red lipstick before locking up. Dallas’s case and my purse were the only things I was bringing in with me. 

Stepping through the back door was like going back in time. I was instantly assaulted by the scent of beer mixing with the sickly sweet cleanser they had used since the dawn of time to sanitize. It was like a combination of bubblegum and junkie piss. Home sweet home. Catching sight of a familiar dark head, I set my case and purse on the stage and bounded across the room, jumping on the back of a man in a black shirt, STAFF emblazoned on it in neon yellow letters.

“Jesus fuck-Linds? What in the fuck are you doing here?” Pressing a kiss to his cheek, I jumped down and didn’t bother wiping away the perfect lip print on his cheek as I ducked in front of him, tilting my chin towards the stage.  
“Hello to you too, Steve. I wish I could say I missed being ogled by strangers while I served them over priced beer but… I missed being ogled by strangers while drinking overpriced beer and getting all kinds of sweaty.”  
”No shit? I didn’t know you were in Joyriding! You done good, Lindsey Girl!” Beaming, I turn to walk backwards towards the bar, jumping over the pass through and grabbing five beers from the cooler before heading back to the stage.  
“Technically, I’m not. I’m just a replacement ‘till MikeyWay is finished with his wedding and honeymoon. But it’s a great goddamn gig if I do say so myself” Plopping my ass the opposite of gracefully on the stage, I tweak my fishnets as I line up four beer bottles, popping the top off the last one with a button on my jacket and taking a long pull. “ I didn’t see any of the guy’s cars in the lot. How am I the-” My words were cut off by the clatter of equipment and the slap of Chucks against hardwood. I had to give it to those guys, they knew how to make an entrance.  
“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear!” Grabbing the four beers, I jump down from my perch and head towards the door, relieving Frank of as much as I could and handing over the bottles that I held expertly between four fingers. ” I was just starting to think I’d be doing a solo show. Took you guys long enough.” Yes, I busted their balls, but it was all good natured, and each one of them knew it. I took as good as I gave though, and I expected nothing less. 

Growing up, I was both coddled and ignored in equal measure. My parents had wanted a son, and never hid that fact from me and -at the same time- treated me like I was an impressionable piece of glass. Baseball practice alternated with cotillion and the lawyers Ballato made sure I received a good Catholic education, complete with plaid skirts, corporal punishment, and knee socks. Predictably, it fucked me up a little, left me with a lifelong hatred of red wine and made me kind of slutty. Hey, it worked for me. Taking the side stairs back up to the stage, I set down the equipment in some semblance of order before bouncing up on my tiptoes. This was gonna be a good night, I could fucking feel it


	2. Everyone's A Passenger Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which people meet, there is a wedding, a carousel, surprise guests, and Black Flag. And also foul language because I like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Again, any mistakes are literally all mine because I second guess everything. This is totally finished and so should all be posted within the next day or so.

After those first few shows, everything started to sort of blur together as things picked up on both the work and band fronts. I had been brought on as a replacement bassist but MikeyWay, the usual one, seemed perfectly content to take some extra time for his wedding and honeymoon and I couldn’t blame him. We had met more than a few times after my audition, at practices and shows, although it wasn’t until the dude’s wedding about three months after joining the band that I actually considered him a friend. I hadn't expected the invitation, at fucking all. But I’d received one, hand delivered by Frank none the less, and who was I to argue with the boss? I knew my place. Besides, it would probably do me some good to actually socialize with adults for a change. Most of the times the guys went out, I’d had to bail out because of work, and quite frankly it pissed me off a little. I knew them all, yes, and we were relatively good buddies, but there was only so much you could learn between songs and during shows. I had quickly found myself craving actual conversations and it was something beyond new and unusual for me, although not unexpected. I knew my idiosyncrasies very well, we had lunch three times a week. Between practices, shows and work, my social schedule was about as dry as my sex life. At least one of those could be easily fixed. 

The night of the wedding rolled around before I even knew it, clear and unseasonably cool although I was far from upset by the chill. It was calming in an unusual way, and as I wound my way up the path that lead towards the venue, the old trees lit by twinkling lights, I started to feel the familiar ball of nervous tension in my stomach. It wasn’t as bad as I got when I played, that was always nerve wracking, but my fingers were twitching for a smoke and I nearly giggled as I caught sight of a smoking gazebo in a small cluster of trees. Veering off the path, I quickly reached into my purse for the box of Marlboro reds that I always kept on hand, but had less luck with my lighter. My bag was ridiculously small and barely fit my keys, smokes, lipstick, some cash and the card for the happy couple. My lighter, apparently, had been one of the casualties as I had repacked the damn thing and I could see the silver zippo in my mind, glinting on my bureau where it still sat. 

“Fucking fuck.” My curse was low as I chucked the box of smokes into the darkness, more out of nervousness than actual frustration, and I forced myself not to look in the direction the box had skittered off to, hoping I could keep myself from ducking into them to find them. 

“Now what did those cigarettes ever do to you?” 

I couldn’t hide my shriek of surprise at the words that seemed to come from the darkness itself, my cheeks going bright red in embarrassment as I searched for the person who had spoken. It didn’t take but a moment for a shape to emerge from the trees, and oh. Oh my. He was very, very fucking pretty. Clad in all black, save for the weird fucking shiny thing on his lapel and a bright blue tie that matched the disheveled hair on his head, his pale skin, delicate features and green eyes seemed to glow in comparison. Jesus fuck, I was a mess. 

“Need a light?” His voice was soft, almost almost feminine in a strange way, and I had to shake my head to pull myself out of the ridiculous stupor that seemed to cloud my mind more often than not lately. It wasn’t until I did so that I noticed the red box in one of his hands and a silver lighter in the other. I would never admit to the girlish squeal of delight that sounded from somewhere in my throat which quickly turned into a delighted sigh as I took the first drag of my cigarette, earning a chuckle from my unknown blue-haired companion as I exhaled the first lungful of blue-white smoke upwards towards the darkened sky. The nicotine worked quick, although it may have just been my head fucking with me, but I was quickly at ease and glanced over at the stranger beside me as he smoked in silence. 

“Thank you, by the way. And I’m sorry for my little tantrum earlier. I don’t get out much.” The words were very true, especially of late, and they were greeted with a low chuckle as I took the last drag of my cigarette and crushed it out in the tall ashtray. 

“Now I know for a fact that isn’t true.”

Raising a quizzical brow at the stranger beside me, I watched as he discarded his own cigarette, stepping towards the small circles of light nearer to the main path. As soon as he was fully illuminated and I caught actual sight of the shining object on his lapel, I burst into laughter, shaking my head and silently thanking the gods at Bumble and Bumble for they ingenious products as my hair didn’t fall in my face. When I finally straightened up, shifting the strap of my ridiculously small bag from one shoulder to the other, I was treated to a questioning and yet knowing look from the blue haired man as I stopped beside him and gave the lightsaber boutonniere that glowed the same blue as his hair and tie a little flick. “Where the fuck am I?”

“Woodland Park Zoo. Mikey and Kristin’s wedding which is due to start in… twenty minutes. I should probably get back there. May I? ” The answers were simple, delivered with a playful grin and a proffered arm that I took almost instinctively, locking away the nagging little voice in the back of my head. 

“You may, thank you. I don’t, however, make it habit to wander around in the dark with strange men I don’t know.” I talked even as we meandered down a fairy light bedecked path, the area becoming a bit more populated as we approached what must have been the ceremony site. 

“Well, I do suppose that introducing myself would have been a bit more socially acceptable back when I appeared from the shadows. I’m Gerard, Mikey’s brother. And you’re Lindsey, right? Bassist extraordinaire and wearer of pigtails and plaid, if I’m not mistaken.” I blinked in surprise for a moment before the first words fully registered and then smiled, giving a small nod. 

“That would be correct, it’s nice to actually meet you. Although I have a feeling you knew who I was long before I knew who you were.” We stopped walking, pausing in front of a well lit and almost stupidly beautiful building that seemed to glow from within, people milling about on the other side of the doors. 

“You would be correct about that, I have to admit. I’ve caught a few shows. You’re really good, although it is a little weird to not see Mikey up there. He’s been with the band since Frank fi-” Gerard was cut off by the sound of a low whistle from the doorway and we both turned just in time to catch sight of the man he was speaking of waving him over with a smile. “Well, that’s my cue. I’m sure we’ll catch up soon. It was a pleasure, Lindsey.” He spoke with an almost impish grin and gave an adorable bow before jogging over to where Frank stood, clad in a matching tuxedo, although his was offset by a green tie. I gave my boss a little wave, earning a smile in return before the two men ducked away out of sight, no doubt to finish some last minute… well, whatever the hell it was that men did before a wedding.

Pulling my lipstick from my bag, I gave it a last check in the tiny mirror and smoothed my hands over my dress, thankful for the impulse purchase at my favorite vintage shop. The dress hadn’t even made it to the window when I’d walked in, the owner greeting me with a wide familiar smile. I’d spent way too much on it, but it was fucking perfect and it fit like a glove, the black silk soft and heavily beaded in mostly black, but scattered through with bright, electric blue and a near glowing green. It hugged my curves and stopped a bit short of what was probably appropriate, although the tattoo on my thigh wasn’t revealed until I sat down in one of the chairs, a program on my lap. I was flanked by Ray’s wife who was as sweet as could be, and one of Bob’s more frequent girlfriends. There was barely time for small talk, thankfully, before the music began playing signalling the start of the ceremony. 

It was beyond fucking beautiful and, unlike most weddings I had been forced to attend, fun. You could easily see the different aspects of the couple woven throughout, from the lightsabre boutonnieres and bouquet holders to rock-inspired vows and simple but elegant flowers. Kristin had walked down the aisle to The Velvet Underground for fuck’s sake. It didn’t hurt that they were obviously obscenely happy and almost stupidly beautiful together, both tall and blonde, Kristin’s flowing white gown and cascading curls a perfect contrast to Mikey Way’s head to toe black, accented by flashes of bright red in his tie and at his lapel. I won’t lie, I teared up a little when the officiant -who seemed to be dressed like the Tenth Doctor- pronounced them man and wife, as the place erupted in cheers that very well may have shaken the walls of windows behind them. Christa, bless her, slid me a tissue and I couldn’t help but smile as I dabbed my tears and thanked fuck for Urban Decay and their magic fucking voodoo powers of waterproofing. 

The crowd filed out slowly, laughter and music drifting through the air as we made our way towards where the reception was being held. Christa and Yvonne, Bob’s latest, proved to be amazing company and the conversation flowed easily and plentifully, pausing only for a moment once the reception venue came into view. The carousel was lit up and already running, and as it went round and round I caught sight of the entirety of the wedding party, posing gleefully on the painted ponies, Mikey and Kristin stretching for the golden ring that was just out of their reach. It was absolutely fucking spectacular and, from what I knew of them both, totally them. Shaking my head with laughter, I retrieved a glass of champagne from a passing white coated waiter with a laugh as my new friends wove through tables and chairs, searching for our names at the table near the gate, the place cards hand written with what looked like caricatures of each guest next to their table number. Holy fuck. This was insane and gorgeous and I didn’t even want to think about the hours or money that had gone into it as I picked up my card and headed towards table seven. Thankfully, the seating gods had shined down on me and I was still with Yvonne and Christa, although the table was already halfway occupied by the time we got there with more familiar faces. 

The mood was beyond buoyant and the alcohol flowed freely as the cocktail hour passed and it wasn’t until the crackling notes of a guitar split the air that all attention was drawn to the small stage for the band that was set up opposite the carousel. The guy at the mic was small and dark blonde hair peeked out from beneath his fedora, a Gretsch slung almost absently behind his back. His face was familiar, as were the other three men on stage with him but between the pleasant champagne fizziness and the fact that I stupidly hadn’t eaten since the morning save for coffee, I couldn’t for the life of me place them. That didn’t matter for long as he introduced himself and his bandmates before launching into a raucous cover of Uptown Funk of all things, which worked almost obscenely well as the wedding party made some ridiculously campy although exceedingly appropriate entrances including but not limited to; a piggy back ride, some truly impressive and ridiculous dance moves and more laughter than imaginable, from everyone and by the time the happy couple was introduced and the band switched into a familiar, although very quiet acoustic version of Lovesong, there didn’t seem to be a dry eye in the house. It nearly had me believing in marriage, but I quickly squashed that unfounded thought and watched intently, sipping my champagne, as the wedding party joined them on the small dance floor the bright blue and green of the bridesmaids gowns contrasting with the black of the groomsmen as they twirled seemingly weightlessly across the dance floor. 

The evening continued in the same, spectacular fashion with speeches from Gerard, Frank, Ray and Bob all equally poking fun at Mikey and singing Kristin’s praises, much to the delight of the crowd. The band was rad as fuck, playing a perfect mix of original songs and fantastic reimaginings of rock standards that suited the festivities. The hours wore on in a haze of laughter, pleasant company and fantastic food and before I knew it, Frank was whistling loudly over the low din of conversation, a nearly yelled ‘’Sweetcheeks!” echoing at exactly the moment the last notes of the song from the band died off. He had exactly zero shame which was fortunate, because I didn’t either, despite the laughter that rang through the air as I stood and made my way over to the group of tuxedo-clad band members crowded by the carousel entrance. 

“Did I miss a memo? And also hi. You guys don’t clean up half bad. I’m impressed.” My words were delivered with a smile and and more than a bit of truth. My usually scruffy, Chucks and jeans wearing bandmates all looked phenomenal, matching green ties and lightsaber boutonnieres glowing in the dim light. 

“Thanks, Sweetcheeks, right back at you.” Although Frank’s words were rushed, they were delivered with a blinding smile and I knew they were sincere; he was never one for saying anything he didn’t mean. “You guys about ready for this?” There was a low chorus of ‘yes’ from the group and I nodded as I precariously crouched down, fiddling with the ankle strap buckles on my heels. “Ahhh, Linds? What the fuck?” 

Pausing for just a moment, I didn’t look up as I flipped them off briefly before returning my attention to my shoes, grabbing them both in one hand once they were off so I could stand. “I can do a lot but playing Black Flag while slightly tipsy AND wearing four inch stilettos is a bit out of my wheelhouse, I’m sorry to say.” The answer seemed to make sense, and Frank just nodded before shrugging out of his jacket, the other guys following his lead, and started rolling up his shirtsleeves to display the ink that was liberally covering both arms. The bright green suspenders each one wore matched not only their ties but the lightsabers that glowed on their jackets that were draped over the backs of their respective chairs at the head table as we filed past. I followed behind quickly, juggling my shoes for a moment until a pale hand darted out and grabbed them from my grip. I couldn’t help but beam at the blue-haired best man as I let go of my shoes and hustled to catch up with the guys. Mikey, for his part, looked absolutely perplexed, although Kristin was nearly bouncing in her chair as we took the stage, carefully swapping gear with the band already onstage. Frank gave the small singer a hug as he slung the strap of the white Gretsch guitar over his shoulder. 

Crossing to the bleach blonde bass player, I gave a bright smile, nodding in thanks as he handed off his instrument, introducing himself with a rakish grin. “Pete Wentz.” 

Straight, to the point. I appreciated that. Slipping the strap into place, I adjusted the needless mic in front of me, keeping my attention on my new acquaintance. “Thanks, Pete. Lindsey Ballato. It’s a pleasure.” 

“Indeed. I think I-” The speech was interrupted by the lead singer almost bodily hauling Pete away with a sorry wave, and I could barely hear his laugh broken protests as they headed towards a table with the rest of their bandmates. “Damnit, Trick, I was talking!” 

Shaking my head, I fiddled with the bass strings. It was a bit different than Dallas but I got used to it quickly nodding as Frank raised his mic stand, muttering under his breath, although I could see his smile from here. 

“Jesus christ, Patrick, what are you four feet tall?” Laughter bubbled through the crowd and a napkin barely cleared the edge of the stage from the laughing singer. “Alright, alright, shut the fuck up.” He laughed as he spoke and I rolled my eyes over at Ray who seemed utterly delighted. “Okay, so, we’re Joyriding, but you all probably know that already. How our dorky, dumbass bassist managed to end up with a woman like Kristin, I will never know, but dude, don’t fuck it up okay?” Mikey, to his credit, just laughed and kissed his wife on the cheek as Gerard, who was seated to his left, ruffled his hair amongst a rousing round of laughter. “Anyway, Kristin asked us to do this for Mikey and I couldn’t bring myself to say no. Mostly because she could probably kick my ass without even trying, but also cause it’s his favorite song. Mikes, we love you.” Without another word, Frank launched into the opening riff of “Nervous Breakdown” and the rest of us followed quickly, playing with all of the energy and heart that we had. The song was loud and raucous, exactly the opposite of what would usually be played at a wedding, but this one was anything but normal, and as the last notes died down, the crowd was cheering, both Mikey and Kristin hopping up on stage with hugs for all as Pete, Patrick, Andy and Joe mingling in as instruments were swapped and mic stands returned to their original places. As we piled off the stage, slightly sweaty and adrenaline high, I bounced up on the balls of my feet, plopping into Mikey’s still empty chair beside Gerard as he offered me my shoes in one hand. Accepting them with a grin, I bent down and slipped them on, glancing up as Gerard spoke, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke, blue hair falling in front of his eyes. 

“Well done. Frank has been talking about this for weeks, I couldn’t get him to shut up about it when Kristin first called. I’m fairly certain he played it non-stop for at least an entire day. Seriously, Linds, you wouldn’t believe the face he made when-” 

“When what?” I heard Frank before I saw him, his tone jovial and nearly giddy as I finished buckling my straps and sat back up, brushing an errant piece of hair that had somehow escaped my updo behind my ear.

“Hey you. I was just telling Linds how fucking excited you were when Kristin called about the song.” Frank just nodded and settled himself on Gerard’s knee before pressing a sweet kiss to the other man’s lips. Oh. OH! Well fuck me. I’d heard Frank talk about a Gee but I had never heard a full name used and now everything made a little bit more sense. Despite the thoughts that ran through my mind, all very inappropriate for my current situation, I just nodded and gave Frank a bright, genuine smile. 

“I have to say, it sounds absolutely adorable, I have exactly zero trouble envisioning you geeking out over Black Flag. I did it myself, so we’re on even ground.” I spoke quietly as I stood, tugging the hem of my dress down as I vacated Mikey’s seat and skirted around to stand behind the chair both Frank and Gerard were occupying. They were so fucking good looking together that it wasn’t fair to anyone else around but goddamn if it wasn’t pretty to look at. 

“What do you say, Lindsey, you wanna come?” I had managed, somehow, to get myself lost in my thoughts, many of them probably best kept for once I was home, and I shook my head, blinking in confusion at Frank’s words. 

“Sorry, what? I think that last glass of champagne was ill-advised.” It was a quick lie but one that seemed to work, although there was something behind Gerard’s smile that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. Frank, for his part, just laughed and pointed at the photographer who had popped up on the other side of the table, camera in hand. 

“Pictures. Carousel. Mikey and Kristin want to get everybody…” Gerard’s voice trailed off and his smile was almost earnest as Frank laughed, ruffling up his boyfriend’s already disheveled blue hair.

“I wouldn’t want to disappoint the newlyweds. Lead the way.” I grinned as I followed along behind both men and the tiny photographer, ducking past the gate and regarding the spinning ride for a moment after both Frank and Gerard had easily jumped up. I was clumsy as fuck on a good day and between my shoes, the champagne and an already moving surface, no matter how slow, this would only end with more bruises on my already battered legs. I could feel the gaze of all three as the carousel continued to turn, spinning them out of sight as I weighed my options. My problem was easily solved when, on the next pass by, Gerard wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me easily up onto the turning platform with a grin. It took me a moment to get my bearings, another fact I blamed unnecessarily on the wine, and I could hear Frank’s laugh behind me as I stumbled slightly against the blue-haired man’s chest.

“Careful there, don’t want you to fall.” The words were a low whisper and I could feel warm breath ghosting across my ear, although somehow I fought the shiver that ran down my spine. I did not, however, miss the gentle squeeze of the hand on my waist just before Gerard stepped back, looping an arm around Frank and kissing his head. The photographer, a knowing smile playing on her face, clicked away happily, capturing the candid moment of the two men for posterity. I did the same, but with entirely selfish reasons as I committed it to memory. 

“Okay, hop up on that black horse for just a second?” It took a moment to realize that I was being spoken to and I snapped to it, Grabbing the gold pole of the thankfully stationary pony and hopping up as easily as I could, throwing my head back with laughter as I finally settled on the slick, lacquered wood, the flash going off quickly. “Good.” The woman lowered her camera and glanced between the three of us. “Did you coordinate on purpose?” Blinking in surprise, I glanced down at my dress, the blue and green beads scattered throughout glittering in the overhead lights and complimenting both Frank and Gerard’s ties and suspenders. Well fuck. 

“Not at all. Well, they did, I just happened to match” My explanation was brief and very true, although with the expression on her face, I had a feeling she wasn’t buying it which… Well, fuck her. She didn’t need to. 

“Mmmmhmmm. Gee, you wanna slide over to the left? Frank stand on the right. Okay lean in like you actually like each other.” I could hear the laughter in her voice as the men on either side of me leaned in, each wrapping an arm around my waist, no doubt to save Mikey and Kristin from a potential lawsuit, and I did not smile at the combined scent of coffee, cologne, mint and cigarettes… much. “Good. Closer… Smile… bigger… Perfect.” I had pumped some extra wattage into my grin just for shits and giggles and I barely heard the whispering behind my head over the loud music piped from the carousel’s speakers, but I caught sight of the ridiculous smile on the photographer’s face as she gave a nod. “One more, I promise it’ll be the last one. Smiles on three. One… two… three.”

I felt it just after two, lips pressed to both of my cheeks and I squeaked in surprise, beaming just in time for the flash to go off and the photographer nearly dissolved in laughter, as did the men on either side of me. I couldn’t help but join in, the sound pure and true as I slid off the horse, my feet landing firmly on the ground and a warm hand still resting on my back, although my mind raced. I was well and truly fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and creative criticism are super appreciated and treasured. Thanks for taking the time to read, y'all!!!!


	3. Anesthesia Dims The Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkwardness, music references and exposition. And LOTS of caffeine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still don't own them!

Sometimes life changing moments are exactly that. You can sense them, know that they are coming. That stirring in your stomach you get when something cataclysmic is about to happen, be it good or bad, you just know. Other times, though, it just sneaks up on you out of nowhere and then slams into your conscious at ninety miles per hour and bowls you over only to leave you confused and blinking. This was absolutely the latter. And of course it couldn’t happen during the day, no. In the tradition of grand realizations and life changing moments, this one slammed home at two thirty-seven in the goddamn morning, pulling me from one of the best non-medicated sleeps I could fucking remember since nineteen eighty-seven. Jesus wept. 

After finally realizing that I was NOT actually going to fall back asleep I pushed myself out of the bed in the cold darkness and plodded through my home, my feet freezing on the cold hardwood floors as I flipped on the stereo. Normal people probably would have, oh I don’t know, put on some fucking clothes first. Not me, although being normal had never really been in my wheelhouse. Music first, always. And then glasses. Maybe then clothes. Slipping the black frames on as soon as I found them on the nightstand, I blinked as the blurriness cleared from my vision and the fuzzy shapes in the darkness became, well, less fuzzy. Tugging an an old flannel shirt from the foot of my bed, I shrugged it on, buttoning it haphazardly as I made my way back to the living room and flopped down on the couch, my gaze fixed on the photo that sat on the end table. The glossy blue frame shone slightly in the dim lighting that poured in from the wall of windows, despite the sky still being dark. The details were still fuzzy, although if that was because of my sleep addled state or the lack of any actual illumination save the moonlight and distant glow of the street lamps in the parking lot. The distance from the constant hustle and bustle of downtown Seattle was one of the reasons that I loved my place so much, although it was still close enough that I could easily get where I needed to go without any issues. My head bobbed along with the heavy guitars that flowed from my speakers and I let my mind wander for a few moments as the last bit of sleep-fog cleared.

I needed more sleep, that much I knew, but it seemed like a futile effort. As much as I loved my job, both of them, it wreaked havoc on my circadian rhythm . Then again, my near addiction to both Diet Coke and strong coffee may have played a small part in that. Maybe. Just a little. Even the thought of coffee -despite the unholy hour- had a little voice in my head whispering and I finally gave in, snagging a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over my shoulders. My feet were silent as I made my way to the darkened kitchen, navigating it easily from memory. The Verismo was already prepped and ready, all it needed was my favorite mug and a few buttons pressed and I was halfway to caffeinated heaven. My movements were practiced as I grabbed the cream and syrup, combining both in the electric frother just as the scent of the blond roast that was percolating began to fill the air. The system had been a splurge, but it was worth every penny in the end when I didn’t end up shelling out a quarter of my paycheck to Starbucks every month. Pouring the sweetened foam into the mug, I held it up for just a moment, inhaling the rich, cinnamon and sugar laced steam that still rose from it. Smiling at the first far too hot sip, I made my way back to the couch and settled back in, my gaze drawn back to the photograph on the table. Keeping my fingers laced through the mug handle, I snagged the frame with my free hand and studied the picture intently, ignoring the fucking ridiculous butterflies in my stomach. It was the last picture the photographer had taken during our turn on the carousel at Mikey and Kristin’s wedding, and I could see the smiles on both Frank and Gerard’s faces, despite their lips being pressed against my cheeks. It was hard to believe that had been over a month ago at this point , and yet at the same time it felt like yesterday. 

I had seen both men on a regular basis, Frank at practices and gigs, obviously, but Gerard had seemed to show up more often as well, usually paint splattered and with ink or charcoal smudged on his hands. He was a consummate artist, in every sense of the word, and although I hadn’t seen any of his work first hand, I just knew that it was amazing, simply by virtue of knowing the man himself. We had met for coffee a few times and the conversation had been easy, and the company even better, save for the scathing looks of disgust as I ordered my beverage, the syrup and copious amounts of cream obviously offensive to Gee’s delicate coffee sensibilities. What can I say, The Beastie Boys were right, per usual. 

As much as I wanted to deny it, I was definitely attracted to not only Gerard but Frank as well. It was a rather huge fucking mess and would never amount to anything but some one sided longing and a nice bit of fodder for my mental Jilling file. I was willing to do a lot of questionable shit, and I had, but fucking up a relationship was one line even I wouldn’t cross, not ever. As much as I tried to keep it to myself, there was no doubt in my mind Frank had picked up on my very minor feelings towards his boyfriend, at the very least, if his increasingly cold demeanor was anything to go by. It was never while we were performing, not even once, but as the weeks had passed, the easy camaraderie that we’d had offstage was slowly vanishing, replaced gradually by an almost icy politeness, underscored with blatant indifference and an almost palpable hostility, especially if Gerard was present. It wasn’t obvious to anyone except for me, I hoped, but the blinding smiles that Frank had once thrown around so casually just didn’t seem to quite reach his eyes anymore, on the rare occasions that I saw them at all. 

Frowning, I gave the picture one last glance before returning it to it’s resting place and sipping my coffee. My head bobbed slightly to the beat of the music that poured through the speakers. It was probably far too loud for the hour but Mrs. Miller next door was deaf as a goddamn doornail. Shaking away the thoughts that kept surfacing, I flipped the volume up a few more notches for good measure and let myself get lost in the music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the patience of a flea, so odds are this will be fully posted tonight. I hope it's enjoyed!


	4. Sparks Against The Railing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art, dreams and set-ups.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not mine. A girl can dream.

Jesus fucking Christ. I could feel everything and nothing at the same time and it drove me insane. Calloused and rough fingers slipped unseen over my skin, salty-slick with sweat and I fought back the need to cry out, to say something, anything. Fuck to even move just a little bit would be absolutely perfect. If I could just get a little closer; move just a little bit, then I could maybe get what I needed. I could feel breath on my neck; wet and hot and it pushed me just to the edge, drove me past insane and right back again; pretty, filthy words whispered with a smile that I could hear against the hollow of my neck. That would be my undoing, it always was. Everybody had their downfall, that one thing that could push them over the edge quicker than anything, and that was mine. I didn’t recognize the voice not exactly, and I couldn’t see anything but I knew the touch; it was familiar in a way that I couldn’t place. The words enough were almost enough to get me what I needed, whispered and harsh against my ear. Almost.. Almost… 

 

My gasp echoed in my ears, breathing labored as I sat bolt upright in my empty bed. Fucking fuck. The sheets were soaked and twisted around my bare legs. My hair, which was usually a mess anyway, was plastered to my neck and cheeks despite the almost arctic air blowing from the vents above my head. My chest heaved as I fought to catch my breath and my vision was blurry. The bright red numbers on the clock were clear as fucking daylight, although right now that lied. Blackout curtains were a necessity when you had my job. 5:43 PM. I’d been asleep for all of three fucking hours after an eighteen hour shift. I was still exhausted as fuck, to say nothing of all kinds of worked up. On any other day, I would just take a few shots and go back to bed but between the state I was in and the fact that I actually had plans that required being a functioning goddamn adult, that was out. Falling back down on my pillows with a huff, I let my eyes close for just a moment longer as I attempted some kind of stupid breathing shit to calm down. It didn’t work, it never did. Yanking the useless sheet from my legs, I threw it aside as I headed towards the bathroom, tossing my t-shirt along the way. My skin felt hot and sticky but there were sparks just barely jumping across it; memories of touches that weren’t real, my dreams taunting me even after I opened my eyes.   
I didn’t bother with the light as my bare feet hit cool tile, it was pointless. There was something freeing, in a weird fucking way, about showering in the dark. As long as all your shit was in different shaped bottles, you were good to go. Mine was; I had been doing this for a very long time. Wrenching the taps to get the water running, I pulled my hands out of the shower and quickly flipped through my phone as I attached it to the sound system. It was quiet and, although I could handle a lot of things, quiet was not one of them, not at home anyway. The second that frenzied guitars and pounding drums hit my ears, I let out a breath I wasn’t aware that I had been holding. Swiping my hand back under the water, a smile pulls at my lips. It wasn’t hot, barely even warm, but it worked for me. I ducked easily under the cool spray; squeaking as it pelted against my overheated skin. It felt fucking glorious; not as good as those phantom fucking hands from my dream, but close enough. Then again… I let my own fingers follow the patterns of the drops that cascaded down my torso, giving in to the remnants of the dream disappearing and giving in to flashes of fantasy behind my closed eyes, ones that would never fucking happen, for all of the goddamn reasons. Still… inked knuckles and streaks of paint worked for the moment and it wasn’t long after my hand slipped between my legs that I cried out and my knees buckled, the wall supporting me as I slid to the floor, my eyes closed and head falling back against the cold tiles, still trembling. Holy shit. The water from above was falling in increasingly colder rivulets and it took me a moment to completely come down so I could get myself cleaned up. It didn’t take long at all and I was stepping out of the shower, still in the dark, before the next song was over, clean and pinked from the increased heat of the water after I’d finally stood again. The scent of strawberries hung in the air and it brought a smile to my lips even as I flipped the light on, squinting my eyes at the almost painful brightness. As much as I liked the dark, it just wasn’t conducive to many things, least of all primping and I would need a fucking lot of it.   
Just under an hour and I was ready to leave, with almost five minutes to spare. The gallery was just far enough to be out of walking distance and, to be honest, I couldn't be fucked to deal with traffic. Uber it was. As I waited on my ride, I took an extra few moments to indulge my inner fourteen year old girl in the full length mirror in the hallway. My dark hair had been blow-dried almost straight and pulled back into a soft, messy ponytail, the ends brushing over the collar of my white blouse which was probably the WORST color for me to be wearing. Somehow, and I had no fucking clue how, my makeup managed to stay put. Smoky eyes and red lips were essentially my go to, and could get a bit cliched, but they worked for me so why fucking change? The black leather skirt was tight around my waist but not at all trashy, flaring to a modified a-line that ended just above the tattoo on my thigh and matched my knee high boots. Appropriate attire for an art opening? I had zero fucking clue, but I didn’t have the time or want to second guess myself as my phone chimed that my ride was here. Grabbing a jacket and a small purse, I headed out into the rapidly cooling night to the sleek black car at the curb and let myself get lost in my thoughts for the duration of the drive.  
The invitation had come as a surprise, almost an afterthought it seemed. I couldn’t explain it, not exactly, but there was something off about Frank lately. Not onstage, never, that was always fucking on, but as soon as those lights went down, there was a distance that was almost palpable. The same could not be said for Gerard. The man had the same kind of passion about his art that Frank did about his music, although he expressed it in a different way. It was easy to see why they worked so well, even for someone on the periphery like me. It didn’t hurt a fucking bit that they were both abso-fucking-lutely beautiful; that shit was all kinds of unfair. Broken images from my showertime indulgence flashed through my mind as the car pulled to a stop and I shook my head gently to push them away as I tipped my driver and climbed out, heading up the granite steps towards the door, the warm golden light spilling from the windows.

I was late,but only a bit. What I could only imagine was a veritable who’s who of the Seattle art world already milled about the vast space, speaking in low tones and sipping from delicate crystal flutes as they flitted from painting to painting. The crowd was eclectic, although that was exactly the opposite of a surprise, and I brushed away a piece of fuzz from my skirt before snagging a glass of champagne from a passing white coated waiter. I didn't see anyone I knew quite yet, but Frank would be here, as would the rest of the boys, and obviously Gerard as well because it was his damn show. I couldn't help but smile as I thought of the blue haired artist and the frontman who had been decidedly hostile towards me of late. Then again, that wasn't exactly a surprise. I was a flirt, and always had been, thank you years of Catholic school, and I don't see fit to alter or censor myself, especially outside of work. It was harmless, really. I just enjoyed pretty people. Anyone in a relationship was decidedly off limits but I could see how Frank was more than a bit upset. Gerard and I talked quite a bit, and we hit it off like gangbusters, but that was that. He was very much taken, and happy as fuck, so I was content to file that ridiculous smile away for future use. Along with his boyfriend's pretty fucking hands. Jesus Christ.   
As I fought away the thought, I caught sight of the owner of those hands, such as he was. Frank was in a suit which was kind of like living in bizarro world, but he pulled it off perfectly. He was standing with his back to me with a group of people I didn't know, laughing at something or other. I wanted to say hello but it really didn't seem like the time, especially with the increased coldness between us of late. Shaking my head, I down my champagne in a single swallow, giving a smile to the passing waiter as I swapped the empty flute for a full one. That was NOT where my mind needed to be drifting right now. At fucking all. Glass in hand, I meandered over to the nearest painting and eyed it appreciatively.   
I had never doubted Gerard's talent, I couldn't even consider it with the way Frank went on, but there was very little that could have prepared me for actually seeing it. Every word of praise was deserved. Each piece was different from the last, but still cohesive enough to form a collection. The colors were almost palpable and I had to literally tighten my grip on my glass in order to keep my fingers off the canvas. I had very little intention of purchasing anything but that flew right the fuck out the window as I paused in front of a single by the corner.   
An idyllic scene in muted, hushed tones was the background and that, in itself was lovely, but it was the spatter of bright red and the patches of black that slashed almost violently through the scene that caught me. It was painful, beautiful and almost grotesque in the most amazing of ways; this spoke to me in the same language that music did, a feat that had not been accomplished before this moment. I needed it. There were no ifs, ands or buts about it. Taking note of the title, I meandered over towards the petite girl at the entrance, who sported an impressive head of aqua hair and a disaffected expression that only came with youth, to find out what I needed to do in order to purchase the piece that had me so captivated. She was exceedingly helpful, although oddly begrudgingly so, and after taking my information, gave me a bored wave and turned her attention back to the door like some kind of technicolor anime sentry.   
Returning to the well dressed crowd, I let my gaze wander before catching sight of a familiar head across the gallery by the same piece that I had just left. Blue hair had been replaced with a vibrant red that would look ridiculous on anyone else, and I smiled as I sidled up beside Gerard, my boots clicking on the floors.

“ It's fucking obscene and hurts to look at. I love it.” 

“Obscene. I like it. Thank you, Linds. ” Gerard’s earnest voice reached my ears, although it was almost muffled as I caught sight of his blinding smile that I couldn’t help but return. Aqua-haired anime greeter slipped by us and placed a small black ‘SOLD’ sign below the description, and Gerard’s eyes widened in surprise.   
“Did you buy it?”   
I was barely able to open my mouth to reply, however, before a clearly angry guitarist nearly stalked in front of Gerard and I, the anger radiating off him in waves. Fuck. I wasn't stupid, not in the slightest and had no doubt about what had set him off and I felt guilty for all of a single breath. I got his defensiveness, I really did, but I wasn't exactly the home wrecker that Frank had somehow decided that I was. My respect for Frank was paramount, both as a person and my boss and I knew him well enough to know, even in just the short time I had been playing with him, that a personal conflict, and there absolutely was one at this point, would never affect the band dynamics. At least I thought as much.   
Giving Gerard a sad smile and letting my gaze follow the pissed off artist, I shake my head. My gaze darts from the painting to the man that created it and I nodded as he ran a hand through already disheveled pillar box red hair. He looked pained, and the hint of a smile on his face didn't even begin to touch his eyes. There were some things you couldn't fake, not even for a crowd. 

“Yeah, I saw. I can try and talk to him if you want, I don’t mind.” The offer was genuine and I shifted my weight from foot to foot as I refocused on Gerard, his art and the conversation we had been having before we had been interrupted. 

“Most people would take that as an insult, you know, but it works for you. And yes, I absolutely did. It's just broken enough that it needs to be in my house. There is a certain gravity to it… it makes people uncomfortable and I like that. But it's beautiful at the same time. They all are, and in vastly different ways. I fucking love beautiful things, especially ones that aren't conventional.” The words were true, in every sense, and I could have elaborated on them but this was neither the time nor place for that. Aqua Girl had passed beside us again, hanging yet another small ‘sold’ sign beneath the painting to our right. 

“Well it looks like a good evening for you. You should be proud.” My attention was pulled, once again by Frank in my peripheral vision as he came back into the gallery proper, and I deposited my champagne glass on the tray of a passing waiter, giving Gerard a small smile as I turned on my heel towards Frank. He looked a bit less ragey, no doubt thanks to the cigarette that I could still smell clinging to him. It made my fingers twitch for the lighter in my pocket and I managed to refrain, somehow as I stopped short beside him.

“You doing okay?” I wasn’t exactly sure what I had anticipated Frank’s answer to be, but there was nothing in the world that could have prepared me for the look that was in his eyes when he lifted his head to meet my gaze. Usually so full of fire and life, they seemed almost empty now, even under the bright lights of the gallery. He looked so resigned, almost, as though he had seen something in the alley while smoking that had changed his entire life. 

“Come back to our place.” The words were delivered with a measured, almost cool indifference, although there was a definite air of something behind them, that I couldn’t qute put my finger on. Whatever it was though, it wasn’t exactly right. 

It was a statement, not a question and it threw me for a moment. I could feel my eyes widen but aside from that, I schooled my features into a practiced mask of disaffection. It was no small feat. A thousand thoughts flew through my head in the same moment, all bright and some bordering on violent, although not in the physical sense. That wasn't Frank's style, not ever. He may not have known it but he showed that every time he performed. It was electric and visceral, fucking beautiful. He purged himself of whatever demons were trapped in his head as he writhed and spit on the stage, eventually leaving them broken as he walked off.   
No, someone with that kind of energy didn't get violent. But that didn't mean he couldn't get angry, and he did. Fuck, it was almost palpable between us in the moment. Flicking my gaze over to Gerard, I found the flame - haired artist in conversation with a reporter. Jimmy Olsen looked all of twelve-fucking-years-old and I shook my head before returning to the conversation with Frank. I regarded him for a moment, simply taking him in as my fingers itched for another glass of champagne. He was angry, that was evident, but that resignation behind his eyes still confused me; an acceptance that settled over his stupidly pretty features even as his inked hands clenched and released into fists. He wasn't intimidating, not in a traditional sense, but there was a certain gravitas in the way that he carried himself; a confidence that was earned and well so. Plus… he was my fucking boss. So. My eyes lit on the tray of a passing waiter and I weighed the implications of one more drink. Nope. Denied. No more alcohol tonight, not if I wanted a clear head for the goddamn showdown the was bound to happen later. Running my tongue over my dry lips, I could taste lipstick and made a mental note to reapply as soon as I could. Now, however, that was not a priority.

“ I can do that. I took an Uber here so I just need to know when you plan to leave.” I was rewarded with a curt nod before Frank was off again, circling the room and returning to Gerard’s side once the small crowd around them dispersed. I wasn't expecting much from Frank, the anger was practically rolling off him in waves. He wore it well though, and I blamed my subconscious for continuing to project fragments of my dream into my night. His nod was curt and about as far from friendly as it could get and I decided to throw caution to the wind and grabbed another glass of champagne as he turned his attention back towards Gerard. I couldn't help watching them, I never had been able to. They were magnetic together, such a juxtaposition of light and dark that anyone who didn't stare was fucking blind. Or just stupid. The familiarity between them; the ease of movements and unspoken words were what truly captivated me. Yes, the were both fucking beautiful and dynamic as hell, but it was the subtleties that really drew me in. Unspoken volumes communicated in just a look; sonnets read with a touch… I wasn't stupid, or in denial, not in the slightest. I was jealous of that connection, as much as it pained me to admit it. I was always honest, especially with myself. The rest, well… that was just a bonus. 

I wished I could read lips as I watched them but eventually gave up, twirling my glass between my fingers as I made my way over to where the guys from Joyriding were standing. Yes, I was just a fill in member, but I had never felt like I didn't belong on the stage with them. In the music industry, having a woman in your band was a novelty; tits and ass were a gimmick to pull in word of mouth. I never felt like that, ever, even though I tended to play up my attributes. It didn't matter to Frank or the rest of Joyriding what was under my skirt and that was one of the fucking reasons that I loved playing with them. I pasted on a bright smile as I sidled up to the guys, making easy conversation. Christa, Yvonne and Kristin had joined their respective other halves, and some would say better, halfs and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t happy to see them again. Although the discussion covered everything from art to the next stop on Kristin and MikeyWay’s honeymoon, I was hard pressed to really contribute as my mind wandered. I took a moment to glance back over to Frank and Gerard, just in time to see the red haired artist brush his fingers across the hem of Frank’s jacket. My mind was reeling with possible outcomes of this evening, most featuring incomparable amounts of yelling and some glass breaking, and I finally dropped my champagne glass on a passing tray, excusing myself politely to find a bottle of water. Or maybe twelve. Once I had my prize in hand, I slipped out the side door and fished my cigarettes from my purse, flicking open my beloved zippo and smiling at the hiss as the flame kissed the end of my cigarette. Pulling in a bracing lungfull of acrid smoke, I held it for a moment, relishing the burn before exhaling and watching it drift up, blue-white against the black sky.

“We’re going to head out if you want… if that’s still okay.” I was pulled out of my slight reverie by Gerard’s soft voice. It was almost hesitant and I glanced up quickly. Taking a last drag on my cigarette, I drop it to the concrete and catch it under the heel of my boot, grinding it out with little to no effort. My gaze was focused on first Frank and then Gerard, as he spoke, pushing off the cool wall that I had been leaning against as I headed towards the car, gravel strewn across the small walkway crunching under my soles. 

I had no idea what Frank had planned, although I assumed it would involve vast amounts of yelling, considering the amount of open hostility that swam behind his eyes. I only caught his gaze for a second, just moments after flashing Gerard a smile as I climbed into the car. Frank looked… I don't know. I held his eyes in the rear view for an instant, trying in vain to search for some kind of answer in their stormy hazel depths, but failing miserably. I should have spoken up, said something but I couldn't. Usually I was outspoken as fuck, cause I didn't give a goddamn what anyone thought, but this situation was as far from usual as it got. 

Leaning back against the seat, I fastened my seat belt with a soft click and rested my hands in my lap; my nervous fingers picking out silent notes on my leather covered thighs. It was an old habit. One that calmed me more than anything, and I even found myself doing it when I was working although that was a bit less often. Gloves made it a little more difficult. The engine purred to life and quiet, familiar music flowed through the air of the car as we pulled away from the gallery, the yellow lights in the windows twinkling against the dark night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos give me life. Creative criticism makes me a better writer. Suggestions and random observations make me happy.


	5. I'll Remember Your Eyes When You're Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions, offers and my breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, not mine. Not even a little.

The ride back to Frank and Gerard’s was quick, although the awkward silence made it seem to drag on and on. I busied myself staring out the window, watching as the industrial and shiny glass and steel buildings gave way to homes and scattered streetlights; cozy houses with golden light streaming from the windows It was an absolutely idyllic neighborhood, almost lifted from a Norman Rockwell painting. The driveway we pulled into was not any different. A white picket fence boarded a good sized yard, a porch swing barely moved in the light breeze and Frank’s truck sat in front of a two car garage. 

As soon as the key was turned and the soft music that had been playing went silent, the car suddenly felt stifling. Judging by the speed with which Frank unbuckled and bailed, I wasn’t the only one who thought so. Gerard twisted in his seat, giving me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. I could tell, somehow, that it was genuine none the less. I offered one back, the corner of my mouth just barely twitching up before unbuckling and slipping out of the car, my small purse clutched in my hands. The air was cool and refreshingly cool, and I could feel the moisture that guaranteed a storm soon. My shiver was less from the cold and absolutely from the situation I was about to walk into and though I tried to hide it, Gerard’s hand resting at the small of my back was a clear indication that I was nowhere near as stealthy as I thought I was. 

“It’ll be okay.” The words were quiet, whispered almost against the back of my head, and I could feel the warmth of Gerard’s breath just barely ruffling against the hair that had started to slip free from my messy ponytail. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, I glance back over my shoulder with a wry smile. 

“Easy for you to say, he doesn’t hate you. “

Gerard’s sigh was quiet and he pulled his fingers through already messy red hair with a sigh. “It’s not that he hates you, Linds, you wouldn’t be here if that were the case. He just… it’s complicated.”

“Complicated. Right.” My voice is little more than a whisper and I fight a shiver as I shake my head, returning my gaze to the still open front door, golden light spilling out onto the porch. Taking a shaky breath and steeping my spine, my chin tilted upwards in an absolutely ridiculous display of fake confidence, I climbed the few steps and stepped inside, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the brightness. 

The house was, oddly, exactly how I had pictured it and at the same time nothing like I could have imagined. As cookie-cutter as it looked from the outside, inside was a whole different story. The decor was a perfect blend of both Gerard and Frank. From the framed artwork, clearly Gerard’s, that adorned the walls to the shelves of what I was sure were meticulously organized records that took up nearly the entire far wall of the expansive living room, every detail subtly shone a light on the two homeowners. 

Setting my purse down on a small table beside a ridiculously comfy looking couch, I shifted my weight from foot to foot, the heels of my boots clicking against the hardwood floors. The light click of the door closing sent a shiver down my spine that was entirely unrelated to the artificially chilled air that fell from the vents. Logically I knew that I wasn’t in any danger; there was absolutely no reason to be afraid. It wasn’t the conflict, either, not at all. I had never backed down from conflict, and I wasn’t about to start tonight. Taking a deep breath, I tipped my head back just slightly, shaking my bangs away from my face and looked over at Frank. He leaned against the open doorway that separated the living room from the kitchen, the shiny steel appliances glowing in the dim light, a beer bottle clasped in his hand. I could see his fingers wrapped tightly around the bottle as he tilted it back, draining it easily, his gaze never wavering from Gerard as the taller man crossed to his side. As much as I wanted to look away as their lips met, I couldn’t and I cursed my wandering mind, twisting into the hem of my skirt to keep myself occupied. 

Christ, they were beautiful. There was something though, that wasn’t quite right, and whatever it was should have been glaring, and I knew it, but i couldn’t put my finger on it for the goddamn world. I could see them speaking, although their words were whispered and I couldn’t make them out. My lip reading skills left a lot to be desired, and I mentally cursed myself for not taking advantage of learning the skill when I had the opportunity. The uncomfortable silence and hushed whispers dragged on for what felt like forever. According to the clock on the far wall, however, forever was actually about three minutes and seventeen seconds. I usually lasted alot longer than that before I let my curiosity get the better of me. 

“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on? Please?” My voice was just on the side of too loud and I cringed at the way the last word shook, betraying just a little bit of my false bravado. I could get on a stage in front of strangers and play my fucking heart out every other week; that was no problem. Helping take care of people at their most vulnerable moments? Cakewalk. But here, in this strange house, staring at two men, a couple, that I was attracted to, one of whom was my fucking boss… that shit was another story. The looks on both Gerard and Frank’s faces seemed slightly perplexed, almost as though they had forgotten I was here. 

Frank laughed, the sound dry and almost tense as he shook his head slightly, eyes resting on me as he raised his beer bottle, his inked fingers tapping over the neck. I recognized the gesture for what it was, I did the same thing myself, and forced myself to meet his eyes. The usual sparkle was dull, although there was something lurking in their hazel depths that I couldn’t place.Setting the bottle on the breakfast bar, Frank headed, empty handed, towards the stairs, leaning down as he passed to whisper in my ear. 

“Make it worth it.”

I could barely feel the warmth of his breath before he was gone without a word, just the sound of Converse hitting hardwood and the slam of a door. My throat was dry as my mind raced to ponder the possible meaning behind his words and I was only pulled out of this reverie by the not exactly quiet strains of a song that I didn’t recognize drifting down the stairs. Confused for just a moment, I pushed myself up from the cozy chair and leaned my head towards the stairs, trying to place it. It was Frank playing, there was no doubt in my mind about that. Turning my attention back to Gerard, I met his eyes with a questioning glance, more confused now than I had been a few minutes before. “Gee, wh-” 

My words were cut off in the most unexpected of ways, Gerards fingers brushing against my cheek just seconds before his lips brushed across mine. It was barely a kiss, but I couldn’t have been more knocked off guard if a goddamn marching band had paraded through the room. Swallowing to wet my suddenly parched throat, and maybe to push off the return of my ridiculously persistent thoughts from earlier in the evening, I forced myself to meet Gerard’s eyes. The usual light green was darkened slightly, and a small smile tugged at just one side of his mouth. One of his hands trailed almost hesitantly up my arm to rest gently against the back of my neck, the tips of his fingers just barely playing with the hair that had slipped free from my ponytail.

“I’ve never been really fond of labels.” The words offered very little explanation, instead simply piling on more layers of confusion. I’m sure it was evident on my face because Gerard laughed, his free hand falling on my waist as he continued. “It would be a lie to say I’m not attracted to you, and I never lie. Frank knows, he asked flat out. I love him with all of my heart and soul.” Gerard’s declaration was matter of fact, and even Helen Keller could see that it was true. . “He’s giving us a night. If you want.” 

A night… if I wanted, If. I. Wanted. This was like an episode of the fucking Twilight Zone. Or I was being punked and Fucking Ashton Kutcher was gonna jump out from behind a houseplant or some shit. I searched Gerard’s eyes for something, any hint of a clue that things may not have been what they seemed and found absolutely nothing to the contrary. My mind raced with possibilities and outcomes; weighing the impact of the proposition with what could happen and the myriad of choices as nearly overwhelming and I just spoke, my voice quiet despite the music that echoed from up the stairs, although there was no possible way to miss the words.

“I want you. Please.” 

Frank had said to make it worth it. Gerard has said we had one night. There was no way that I was not going to make the most of what I was being given. From the moment the nearly whispered words left my mouth, everything changed. Four words were all it took and Gerard’s lips were back on mine; the fingers at my neck were threading into my hair and his hand on my waist tightening just slightly. It was sweet and fucking good, better than I had quite literally dreamed. Somewhere, in the back of my head, a tiny little voice whispered in protest that MAYBE this wasn’t such a good idea. That little voice was dumb as fuck and needed to shut up. And it did, quickly, as soon as Gerard’s fingers made quick work of my ponytail and tugged through my hair. I could feel his smile against my lips for a moment before they trailed down my jaw to my neck, the gentle pull on my hair tilting my head back. What can I say? That little voice was a sucker for hair-pulling. I didn’t move for a moment as the sensation of just being kissed -and fucking well- sank in, causing my long neglected hormones to stand up and do a fucking dance. Twisting my fingers in the silk of Gerard’s tie, I gave it the slightest tug, whimpering when I couldn’t get the knot free. Whether that was due to my own ineptitude or the distraction of the fingers that had somehow wandered under the hem of my blouse, I wasn’t sure. Either way, my frustration earned me a chuckle that I could feel vibrating against the sensitive skin of my neck. 

“Need a hand?” Gee’s words were pitched low, whispered against my skin and it was all I could do to just nod, pulling futilely at the fabric. Trailing his mouth up my neck, he gave the tiniest nip at my earlobe that coaxed a quiet moan that I fought to keep in my throat. “Upstairs? Unless that would be too presumptuous. “

I could hear the smile in Gerard’s voice, and it brought one to my lips easily as I nodded, reluctantly pulling back to regard him for just a moment. He looked beautiful, as fucking always. I swear to fuck, he and Frank must have sold their souls or something. They never fucking looked bad. Finding my voice again, I brushed an errant lock of hair behind my ear and cast my gaze towards the stairs. The music was still going, loud and thumping, and I had to fight back the thought of Frank that came to mind, almost unbidden, along with flashes of my dream. “It would be far from presumptuous, Gee. I’m pretty sure you know that.” 

His earnest smile was at odds with his lust darkened eyes but somehow, as always, he seemed to make it work as he gestured up the stairs.”After you.” 

Far be it from me to argue. Leaving my purse where it sat, I headed up towards the second floor, heart pounding as Frank’s music grew louder with each stair. I paused on the landing glancing at a closed door that must have lead to the attic. My face, once again, must have been my tell, because Gee took my hand gently and followed my gaze. 

“We re-did the attic when we moved in. You’ll have to have him show you. Just… not now. “ Pressing a soft kiss against the top of my head, Gerard lead me carefully to the end of the hall, pausing in front of a closed door before turning his attention back to me. “You can still change your mind, you know. We don’t have to-” 

His words were the ones that got cut off this time as I pulled on his tie and crashed his lips to mine. The kiss was needy; desperate and thorough, with wandering hands and tiny, delicious little sounds swallowed by open mouths. This second kiss was more heated than our first, and carried an undercurrent of… something. Lust. Yearning. Desire… something. I nearly stumbled over myself as the door swing open and Gerard guided me into the room in the dark. His foot connected with the hardwood and it closed with a bang, shutting out the outside world except for the driving rhythm that still carried overhead, gasped breaths and uninhibited moans blending perfectly, obscenely, with the music as the night went on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter. THIS. CHAPTER. Literally the last one I wrote. And it made me LOSE MY MIND. The doubt is real, y'all, but I hope it is enjoyed.


	6. You Can Fight This All You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath. Plus, music, lies and some sex. Oh and more guest spots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not mine, don't own them. It all came from my silly mind.

Waking up alone and naked in a strange bed is always a little disconcerting. Blinking against the darkness, I sat confused for a moment as I looked around, willing the haze of sleep to dissipate so that I could figure out what the fuck was happening. Snippets of memories flickered through my mind, alternating with images straight out of my dreams and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what was real. Well, not until I realized what woke me. The sound was quiet but unmistakable, a soft thud followed by a deep moan that brought every moment of the night rushing back with an almost ridiculous clarity. Holy fucking shit. As soon as the realization dawned, it all seemed to make sense again. I took a deep breath and stretched my arms up over my head and the dull ache bringing a smile to my lips. 

The clock on the side night stand shone in a soothing blue, although it took a second for the numbers to come into focus. Two-thirty seven. I had no clue how long I had been out but judging from heaviness in my limbs, it had to have been at least an hour or two. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I groped around on the floor, searching for something to put on. I had no clue where my own clothes had been tossed and when my fingers brushed the luxurious fabric of Gerard’s shirt, I made do, shrugging into it and buttoning it as well as I could with my still-clumsy fingers. The same sound that had woken me up continued and despite that same little voice from earlier, I made my way towards the slightly open door, blinking at the bright light as I opened it. 

Following what must have been the worst fucking instincts in the goddamn world, or maybe I still had amazing sex on the brain, I padded half-naked and barefoot through my friend’s- my BOSS’S house. Catching sight of myself in a mirror, I fought a laugh at my reflection. My make-up was smudged, lipstick long gone, and my hair stuck out at all angels. Gee’s shirt, a size too big for me, was barely decent. The collar hung open, revealing small bruises scattered across my pale skin. I had no doubt that there were more marks to find but that wasn’t in the priority right now. I pulled my fingers through my hair and kept up my exploration, although how the fuck I was going to explain this hadn’t even occurred to me. I was going to get caught, there was no doubt about it, but I couldn’t be bothered with consequences right now. That part of my brain was silenced; shoved away and locked up, just for one night. 

There was only one other room that I could see that had a light on and the door was halfway open, the moans clearer now as I approached. Good god, I was a fucking creeper. I could almost make out whispered curses; dirty, pretty words that I remembered very well as I peeked around the doorframe. Jesus fucking christ, I nearly came right there. Frank was on his knees, grasping the rails of a wooden headboard with Gerard behind him, the bed rocking against the wall with every thrust of his hips. They were both coated in a thin sheen of sweat that shone in the dim lighting, heads thrown back and oblivious to anything around them. Fucking Christ, How in the fuck were they even real? I couldn’t seem to look away -not that I would want to- as breaths got shallower, moans louder and thrusts harder the closer they both came to climax. 

A series of strangled moans and cries and a final thud of the headboard against the wall later and both men collapsed to the mattress, a tangled mess of limbs; Gerard’s smooth pale skin almost glowing against Frank’s dark, ink covered form. They were an absolute mess, but a beautiful one. Even from my place at the door, I could heard the soft declarations of love. It was far too intimate of a moment for me to be intruding on and I stepped back carefully, wincing as a floorboard squeaked beneath my foot. Freezing as I met Gerard’s eyes, he simply offered me a small, almost knowing smile and a nod before turning his attention back to the smaller man wrapped in his arms. 

Swallowing hard as I returned to the spare room, I slipped between the sheets again, still clad in the borrowed shirt and tried to ignore the thoughts that whizzed through my head and the growing ache in my heart. The last thought which went through my mind as I drifted to sleep was a familiar one. I’m in so much fucking trouble. 

 

Of the two things that had been whispered to me that night almost two months ago, only one managed to stay with me. As much as Gee and I both made the most of the time we had been given, somehow it had lasted for more than the one night. We met occasionally, always at their home and always with Frank in the house. It wasn’t easy, quite the opposite actually, but it seemed to work, in the strangest, most fucked up of ways. I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, that I was in this far deeper than I should have been, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to stop, not as long as things were still good. And they were. With Gerard, anyway. It wasn’t all about sex, not in the slightest. Even if that was how things had started, I had never met anyone that was as easy to talk to. That scared me more than just a little. We could talk for hours if given the chance, about everything and seemingly nothing at the same time, and we did, discussing everything from art to work and everything in between. Nothing was ever off limits and that sense of trust; the knowledge that everything was on the table was almost intoxicating. 

Frank... Well, he was another story. Everything was good -if cold- between us at work, be it practice or actual shows. But as soon as the crowd fell away and it was just us, that icy demeanor slipped back into place. I knew him well enough to know that this would never, ever harm the band and his music, but there were moments that I was more nervous than I probably should be. That should have been a hint in and of itself, but I ignored it, playing everything off like it was okay. As much as I would never lie to anyone else, I was a goddamn master at lying to myself even when I really shouldn’t. 

The truth finally hit home during a performance one night. The bar was crowded and smoky; the scent of stale beer, sweat and cologne mingling in the air. It was electric, the crowd seemingly swimming with familiar faces, some I knew well and others that just kind of hung on the edge of my memory. Gerard was there, sharing a high-top with Pete and Patrick. Although I couldn’t hear the conversation, the easy smiles and laughter was evident, even across the crowded room. 

“We’ve got one more for you tonight. It’s new so be fucking gentle.” Frank’s voice was tinged with laughter as it rang through the microphone and even I smiled along with the crowed. He was absolutely captivating whenever he was in front of a microphone. Frank is a consummate showman, in the most endearing of ways and gave everything he had to his music, which shone through in every line of lyrics or every chord from the guitar. The song kicked off and I nodded to the beat. My fingers worked easily over the strings as Frank began to sing, his guitar almost forgotten as the plaintive, raw lyrics echoed through the air. Holy fucking hell.

We had ran the song in practice, of course, but nothing could have prepared me for this, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise. The message was clear, longing and something near pain in each shouted question that resonated with more than just me. Sometimes he could hide what he felt, it was part of being a performer, but at this moment, this song, everything was laid bare. Granted there were only a few people who could actually see the significance of the lyrics but holy fuck. I closed my eyes for the duration of the song, boots planted firmly in place as I played my part, although I could feel eyes on me. It wasn’t until the last notes died off and the cheers began that I finally looked up, meeting a pair of green eyes across the room. The message there was clear, he knew as well as I did what was being said in these words.

My hands trembled as I helped load out, my head down and my mind racing. The movements were routine and I had never, ever been more grateful for the cold as I was when I finally stepped through the back door of the club and into the cool mist that seemed to always be falling. Packing up cords and cases, I casually tossed off excuses to both Bob and Ray, putting them off for just a little while as I ducked into an alley on the far side of the building. 

I let out a long breath as I tilted my head back against the cold, worn brick. My arms were wrapped around my torso and my fingers itching for a cigarette as I fought to clear my head, at least enough to get through the rest of the night. I couldn’t seem to get that last song out of my head, the raw emotion that had been in Frank’s voice as he sang. I wasn’t supposed to want him. Not at all. He made his feelings for me abundantly clear. But as masochistic as that was, I did. As much as I told myself that I didn’t need him, I wouldn’t, I did. Work was work and my personal life was exactly that. Never the two shall meet. At least that’s what I told myself. Just another sweet little lie to add to the pile. One more would never hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one that made me flail. I have all sorts of doubts, y'all. Questions, comments and constructive criticism are welcome and embraced. I'm trying to remember what song I'm talking about at the end. I wrote this month's ago and have the memory span of a damn raspberry. What do YOU think it could be?


	7. Every Secret That I Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad days, storms, questions, answers and surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They don't belong to me.

I was so tired. Not just physically tired, no, it was a bone deep, weary exhaustion that hit me to my core. The last sixteen hours had been, and I could say this without hesitation, the worst of my career so far. Four lives, stopped before they could ever even have the chance to really begin. Two of them, well, there was no preventing the loss, it was nobody’s fault. It was a fatal flaw in genetics that allowed for just a few brief moments of peace before the grief settled, heavy and thick like a woollen blanket in a thunderstorm. The parents, beautiful and kind even in their grief, had wanted nothing more than to have their son baptized, and so we did, although not without difficulty. Fortunately, the weather cooperated and the tiny infant, his loving parents, Doctor Dunn, a priest and I made our way up to the roof. I wasn’t religious, not any more, but it was a small moment in time and an honor to be able to share in this moment with them. He didn’t have long in this world, barely three hours, but that tiny boy was loved more fiercely than some children were in years. 

We had been unusually busy and within a few minutes of the time Dr. Dunn had pronounced the tiny boy, I was being pulled to another patient; although the circumstances were the same in the end, the story was not. This baby girl never stood a chance and it wasn’t nature, but the absolute disregard and cold callousness of her mother who chose to condemn her. No pre-natal care, smoking, drinking… what could have been the start of a beautiful life had been snuffed out by the one person who had any control over the situation. It made me sick on a level that I had never been able to grasp, and it wasn’t the first time I had seen it, nor would it be the last. But this time, especially in comparison to my patient before and the heart-wrenching grief, it seemed even more callous in contrast. 

The rest of the shift went much the same and, as much as I was loathe to admit it, I signed out after my report without actually handing over any of my patients, simply because there were none left. I kept my composure as I left the hospital, the shaking of my car keys in my hand the only thing that betrayed me, but as soon as I was in my car and out of the parking lot, my tenuous grasp on those emotions started to slip and I struggled to keep the tears at bay as I drove, almost on autopilot through familiar, quiet streets, the street lights already on in preparation for the impending storm. I wasn’t sure where I was heading, not until I stopped, but I wasn’t at all surprised to see the familiar house behind its white picket fence. The light on the porch was on in the dwindling twilight; dark, ominous clouds covered the sky at an almost alarming rate, and the windows shone a bright gold as I headed up the walk, casting a cursory glance at the driveway. Both Frank’s truck and Gerard’s car were there, and the breath I wasn’t even aware I was holding slipped out quickly as I hopped up the stairs, my work clogs clunky and loud on the painted wood. There was a slight breeze in the air and I wrapped my sweater tighter around me to ward off the chill as I rang the doorbell and waited. I hadn’t bothered to change after my shift, I just needed to get out of there as fast as I could. 

It was a minute, maybe more before I heard footfalls on the other side of the door and I stood a little taller as I waited for it to open. I wasn’t greeted by the person I had expected, however, and I felt my shoulders slouch just slightly as I met Frank’s gaze. There was still more than a little tension between us, possibly more now than ever, although it still had yet to bleed into the band. Frank was nothing but professional at work, if sometimes a bit cold. Now, however, we were absolutely not at work and the hostility radiating from him was nearly palpable as he leveled his gaze at me, raising his beer bottle and taking a long pull before swiping an inked hand across his mouth and finally speaking.

“He’s at the gallery. Some meeting about a possible commission.” The words were delivered flatly, almost emotionless which was something beyond unusual for the man that stood in front of me. Swallowing thickly, I shifted my weight from foot to foot, wrapping my sweater covered arms around my torso as I forced myself to meet his gaze. I had probably four inches on him at the moment but I felt nearly insignificant as I stumbled over my words, struggling to keep my emotions from the day in check. 

“I’m sorry, I thought that.. His car is here and it’s just been a really shitty day. Can I, that is, can I come in? Please?” My voice wavered on the last word and I worried my bottom lip between my teeth as I waited, the cold wind catching the stray hairs that had slipped free of my braid and casting them across my eyes. “I won’t be a-”

“Stop, Linds.” Frank held up a hand as if to physically hold my words back and I nearly choked from the effort of keeping them contained. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t think any of this is a good idea, and that’s just as much my fucking fault as it is anyone else’s. No, you can’t come in. I don’t know when he will be home and, quite frankly, I don’t want to have to take care of you while we wait. To say it would be uncomfortable would be a fucking understatement and I already have enough of that every fucking time you and he are together. I just can’t, not now.” 

My eyes stung with tears that had somehow remained unshed until now, but I knew that wasn’t going to last although I fought it until the first one slipped down my cheek halfway through Frank’s speech, followed by another. I swallowed thickly to keep myself in check and simply nodded when he was done, trying and failing to keep the waver from my voice. “I can- I understand.” The words were nearly a whisper and my throat hurt from holding back a sob, but I forced myself to meet Frank’s stormy hazel eyes anyway, and the blankness there shook me to the core. 

“I’ll tell Gee you stopped by. Goodnight, Lindsey.” He didn’t say another word, or even spare a glance before turning on his sneakered heel and shutting the door with bang, the sound blending into the first echo of thunder that rumbled overhead as the porchlight went out. I couldn’t stop the single tear that fell then, not even if I wanted to, and they fell freely as I made my way back to my car mingling with the first drops of rain that quickly turned into a torrential downpour. 

Somehow the storm was comforting, familiar in an almost eerie way, and I was able to push away all of the thoughts, fears and tears as I made my way home, focusing exclusively on the storm as I made my way through the now deserted streets. It didn’t seem like even a minute had passed before I was pulling into my allotted parking space and making my way up the stairs to my loft, although, at the same time, it felt like an eternity. My arms were heavy, hands shaking, as I struggled with the key in the lock, finally pushing the heavy door open and nearly falling inside as the first sob escaped from my throat. I fought it as hard as I could, cold rain dripping onto the hardwood floors as the storm raged overhead. Just a few more minutes and I would be able to get in the shower and cry freely. I dropped my bag and work sweater on the counter, kicking my clogs off and tossing away my soaked scrub top as I wove my way through towards the stereo flipping a few buttons and pausing for just a moment as the music washed over me. It was far too loud, and at the same time not loud enough, I could still hear the storm raging outside of my windows and I lost myself in the rhythm as I made my way to the bathroom. The spray was just this side of too hot and pricked my pinking skin as I slid down the wall, drawing my knees to my chest and finally, finally letting myself sob. 

I don’t know how long I stayed in the shower but by the time I finally pushed myself up off the floor, the water had gone ice cold and my teeth chattered as I wrapped myself in a towel and wiped my hand across the surface of the mirror. I could barely see my reflection, pale and tired looking, with my hair plastered to still wet cheeks. I needed sleep. And maybe a drink. And definitely Gerard. The thought of the red-haired artist brought another stab of pain in my chest, but I shrugged it off, along with my towel, and padded back into my room and got dressed, tugging on an old flannel and a pair of nearly threadbare jeans that frayed at my feet. They were comfortable and familiar even as I stepped on them while heading towards the kitchen. 

Apple vodka swished into a highball, followed by a generous squeeze of honey and more ice than was needed, and I bobbed my head absently to the music as I prepared my vice of choice. I had just finished my first sip, savouring the slight burn and floral sweetness, when I heard the buzzer ring. It was faint over the music and the thunder outside the windows but it was there. Pursing my lips, I weighed the pros and cons of answering it, but curiosity finally won out and I padded over, glass in hand. I wasn’t a huge one for visitors, more often than not just a neighbor or two, so I never check the peephole, assuming it was Mrs. Miller in need of some sugar cubes for her tea. It was absolutely not my diminutive neighbor. 

I didn’t even try and hide the shock on my face as I took in the sight before me. Frank stood there, his white t-shirt and jeans soaked through and dripping onto the hardwood, looking for all the world like this was the last place he wanted to be. And yet here he was. Taking a long swallow of my drink to wet my suddenly parched throat, I finally managed to find my voice although it was quiet. 

“What are you doing here?” The words came out harsher than I expected, with an icy edge that hopefully, maybe, not really hid the hurt that still very much lingered from our earlier meeting. 

Frank huffed a sigh, pushing his wet hair behind his ears and meeting my gaze. There was no hesitancy about it and I had to force myself not to look away. I couldn’t do it. 

“Listen I- can I fucking come in? I really don’t want to do this in the hallway. Please, Linds?” There was an undercurrent of something in his voice, eclipsed by frustration and the same anger that I had heard earlier, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was. Nodding mutely, I stepped back and pulled the door open, beckoning him in without a word. His Chucks squelched wetly as he entered and I turned my back to him under the guise of locking the door, but I really focused on my breathing, struggling to calm the shaking in my hands. Once both the door and my grip were secure, I turned to watch Frank as he paced back and forth behind my couch, his hands clenching and releasing almost in perfect time with his strides. Leaning against the arm of the couch, I kept my eyes on him until he stopped and just stared at me, his gaze as intense as always. 

“I’m sorry I made you cry.” The words were blunt but genuine and I shook my head, fighting a soft, jaded laugh. 

“You didn’t make me cry, Frank, don’t give yourself that much credit. I was going to cry anyway. What you did was fucking send me away. I get it, you don’t fucking like me, but that was a dick move. Beyond it even.” I kept my voice even as I spoke, though I didn’t know how, and Frank looked both thoroughly ashamed and pissed off at the same time, his cheeks pinking slightly though whether it was with anger or embarrassment at being called out, I wasn’t sure. 

“That’s not fucking true, Linds, and you know it. I like you, I always have, I just… this situation with Gee. It’s fucking confusing, okay? We were fucking fine, we were perfect. And then you waltzed in all fire and lipstick and fucking passion and things were a fucking mess. Gee was fucking smitten, immediately, and that’s not how it was supposed to be. I could handle it at first, at least I thought so, but goddamnit, Linds! I couldn’t fucking understand and I thought that one night would be enough but then it wasn’t and you two kept happening and I have to fucking see you all the time and-”

“And then what, Frank? “ I couldn’t hide my anger as I yelled, interrupting his ever louder diatribe, my own voice filled with pain and righteous indignation, undeserved as it may have been, as I nearly screamed over the noise of the music and the storm. “Fucking what? You could have stopped it at anytime, you fucking knew that. Any. Time. All you had to do was say the word. You came up with it, you said it was okay. Yes, it was Gee and I, but you had the power there, all of it. I mean fucking christ! Don’t you dare blame me because you were too much of a pussy to open your mouth.” I was fuming and some tiny, logical part of me was screaming in my mind to just shut the fuck up, but that part was quickly overridden by the hurt and anger that was coursing through me. 

“Are you fucking serious right now, Lindsey?” Frank’s voice was just as loud as mine, dripping with disbelief, his hazel eyes gone wide and filled with fire. “ That’s not- it isn’t about fucking power, not at all. It;s about Gee and you. Seeing you together… that’s something I can’t- it fucking twists me up inside, every goddamn moment. Even when you aren’t together, I can’t stop thinking about it, no matter how much I fucking want to. I can’t get you out of my head. “ 

Angry tears stung my eyes as Frank nearly screamed, his pacing stopped as he stood in front of the couch look absolutely destroyed and furious, in the most beautiful way possible. “That’s not how it works, Frank. You don’t get to blame us for that. You knew better than anyone how you would react to it. If you want Gee and I to be done, then we are done. Finished, end fucking point. I’m out of his life, I’ll leave Joyriding too if that would make things fucking easier, Mikey is back so I’m just an extra anyway. But this bullshit, whatever your fucking problem is, it’s not going to be gone just because Gerard and I aren’t sleeping together any more, or even if you don’t ever fucking see me again. That’s not how shit works, Frank. Me being physically away from Gee won’t get us out of your head. We don’t have to be friends, I fucking get it.” I gestured wildly as I spoke, vodka and sticky honey splashing wildly over the rim of my glass and down my hand as I threw my arms out, the words tumbling out before I could even think about them. 

“It’s not fucking that, Lindsey, Jesus Christ! It’s- I- fuck it.” His voice was pained and before I could blink, he had closed the space between us, one hand wrapping around the back of my neck and the other at my waist as he crashed his lips to mine muffling my cry of surprise. My glass slipped from my hand, shattering against the hardwood in an explosion of liquor and shards, but I didn’t give it even a second’s thought as I returned Frank’s kiss. It was absolutely desperate and messy with an edge of almost painful longing and I found myself fisting my hands in his soaking wet t-shirt and tugging him closer, until I could feel the cold wetness from his clothes soaking through to my own skin. I finally pulled away, my chest heaving as I met hazel eyes that had gone nearly green with desire as I panted for breath, not moving even an inch as I gasped for breath. 

“I-what- you- Frank?” My voice was quiet, almost a whisper below the music and the storm raging outside, but I knew Frank could hear me. He just shrugged with one shoulder, neither of his hands moving from their resting places.

“I told you I couldn’t get you out of my head. That’s exactly what I meant. This thing it’’s- I just- fuck. Come to the house? Gee’s home and I think we should talk. All of us.” His voice was quiet again, although none of the passion had drained from it, and his fingers gently brushed against the nape of my neck. “Please?”

I couldn’t deny him that, even if I wanted to, and I simply gave a nod, reluctantly pulling out of his embrace as I sidestepped the glass and vodka that was spread across my floor. “Let me just- shoes.” He didn’t say a word as I padded to my room, but I could feel his eyes on me the whole way, and my head still spun with questions as I shoved my bare, wet feet into a pair of boots and grabbed my keys and wallet before flipping the lights off and returning to Frank’s side, my voice far more confident than I actually felt. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the first chapters I wrote and absolutely one of the clearest in my head from day one. Turn on 'We Don'the Have To Dance' for the soundtrack. I couldn't stop playing it. Thank you for reading! And that is my beverage of choice when I get to drink. It's yummy.


	8. Surrender Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know them, don't own them. Any mistakes are mine because I have the attention span of a shoelace. My tense throughout has shifted like a fucking shifty thing. Sorry about that.

The ride was surreal, silent save for the squeak of windshield wipers that seemed to move in time with the music. Margo Timmons and company covered Lou Reed, Mick Jagger charmed some unsuspecting young girl and Jeff Buckley was, well, Jeff Buckley. The selections may have been a surprise at one point in time, but in the months that I had gotten to know the guitarist, no matter how distant we may have been, I’d learned that his music always said more than what it seemed, be it a song he wrote or what he listened to, and tonight was no exception. Each song held more meaning than the last and by the time that we finally pulled into the driveway, and the ignition was off, he silence was deafening even above the rain that pounded down against the truck. 

We sat for a moment, in the silence, until the front door of the house opened and a familiar silhouette appeared against the warm light, pulling our attention. “We should probably head in. It’s- you’re gonna get wet. Well, wetter. Gee is the one with the umbrella.” 

I couldn’t help but smile slightly at Frank’s words. As quiet and seemingly insignificant as they had been, they still somehow managed to speak volumes about him and Gerard. I didn’t reply, nodding instead as I followed his lead. I had almost hoped that the rain would have calmed down during the drive but, if anything, it had picked up and was coming down in sheets as we raced through the fence and up onto the steps of the house. Gerard stepped back as soon as our feet hit the porch, ushering us in with a worried look on his face. Whether it was because of the storm or the conversation that he knew was coming, I did not know. Closing and locking the door behind us with a click, Gerard simply shook his head and vanished to the kitchen, leaving Frank and I awkward and dripping in the living room. 

The silence could have easily tipped to uncomfortable. It wasn’t, but it was far from pleasant. My mind raced, the events of the day playing rapid fire in my memory. Showing up here, shaken after work, to weeping in my shower to that fucking kiss… I couldn’t seem to get a handle on my thoughts and I kept sneaking glances at Frank through lowered lashes, catching his gaze more than once. Surreal didn’t begin to cut it. 

We stood there, wet and shivering, until Gerard returned, a steaming mug in each hand and a small smile on his face. “Sit, drink and then talk.” Although normally quiet in many aspects, when demanding Gerard made an appearance, there was no arguing, and both Frank and I took our mugs and perched in oversized chairs opposite each other. 

The tea was strong and sweet with a hefty dose of cream. Obviously Gerard’s philosophy on coffee did not extend to any other caffeinated beverages. Before I even realized it, I was draining the mug, washing down the remnants of apple vodka and honey. I settled the mug on the table beside me with a shaking hand. That, however, was not at all due to being cold. My now empty hands itched for something to do, anything, just to distract myself from the gravity of the situation. I had to settle for twisting them in the hem of my shirt as I glanced between Frank and Gerard, tugging my lower lip between my teeth. Frank mirrored my actions, slumping back in his chair and shoving his hands in his pockets. The silence was heavy until Gerard just laughed, shaking his head. 

“This is fucking ridiculous.” Leaning down to kiss Frank gently on the cheek, I watched as he carded long, thin fingers through the smaller man’s wet hair. “You two are going to catch pneumonia and I’m not going to take care of you both, you know that right? With how fucking stubborn both of you are, you’d probably just sit there and be miserable until you needed to be hospitalized. Assholes.” There was a sweetness in his words, despite how heavy they were, and it was endearing to watch him soothe an obviously uncomfortable Frank. As many times as I had seen them together, including my creeper moment that first night I’d been here, I couldn’t think of a moment that seemed quite as intimate and I dropped my gaze, feeling rather out of my element. My boots were suddenly super fucking fascinating.

“Linds?” The voice that broke through my thoughts was not the one that I had expected, and my gaze shot up to meet Frank’s eyes. “I didn’t mean it you know, earlier. I was a dick.” It may not have been a traditional apology, but it was perfect coming from him and I gave a small shrug, the corners of my mouth twitching up into a half smile.

“I know you were. And it’s okay, trust me. I’ve had a few choice moments myself.” My words brought a much needed round of laughter to the room, and I chimed in myself, the levity refreshing after such an emotionally charged night. 

“Now that’s out of the way, I’m pretty sure that we have some things to talk about. But first, you both need to change. If you stain these couches…” Gerard’s empty threat hung in the air as he stood and made his way towards the stairs, his paint spattered fingers laced with Frank’s ink covered ones. Pausing at the banister, they both turned their attention towards me and and I followed behind them, our footfalls heavy on the hardwood. 

We didn’t change, not right away, and we didn’t talk either. Clothes were shed and words spoken, although they were broken and whispered against skin, endearments and curses in equal measure. After fighting for so long, more than I wanted to, surrendering to nothing but feeling was exquisite. As much as we had to talk about, and there was a lot, it could wait. There was nothing but time ahead and, as I slipped into a blissful sleep wrapped in two sets of arms, I couldn’t help but smile at the thoughts of what lay ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the end of a rather crazy ride for me. A leap of faith and SO MUCH DOUBT. Thank you so, so, so much to anyone who helped with this flight of fancy in anyway, y'all make it worthwhile and I couldn't have finished without you. I'm humbled and honored any of y'all would take the time to read my words, let alone enjoy or help with them. Thank you again, so very much.


End file.
